


Anything At All

by Torapadora



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Lots of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1975890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torapadora/pseuds/Torapadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fixation, captivation, obsession, that’s how he’d describe his relationship with winning. He had to win, an emperor could not simply lose. He would sell his soul if that was what it took. He wouldn’t be the one to fall from grace. He would never fall apart again, he would be the one making things fall into place. He refused to reign under a broken crown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything At All

Fixation, captivation, obsession, that’s how he’d describe his relationship with winning. He had to win, an emperor could not simply lose. He would sell his soul if that was what it took. He wouldn’t be the one to fall from grace. He would never fall apart again, he would be the one making things fall into place. He refused to reign under a broken crown. 

He closes the possibility of losing and checks the facts twice, he’d lock himself away forever. He saw the shadows of his former team mates, haunting him. He heard his father’s footsteps following him where ever he went, making sure he never failed. It was like he was trapped in a nightmare, trapped in himself. Over and over and over he keeps rebuilding himself, in the end there might not be anything left of him. He fears that it might be true that he’s gone. 

He was haunted by the thought of defeat.

The eyes kept watching him while he tried to sleep, making sure he didn’t try anything stupid, making sure he’d never let himself be defeated. He hated what he saw in the mirror, his father looming over him looking at him in disapproval. All of this was making him lose his mind.

He kept imagining how it would be if he wasn’t so fucking horrible at everything, over and over he’d perfect himself. He wondered if it was destiny for him, or if he was simply being tested by life. He tried to resurrect memories where he wasn’t in fear. When he didn’t force perfection on himself until he bleed. 

He’d try to reach closer to his father’s heaven only be left down in the sea. He’d be the mighty lion still singing another’s praise. He was suffocating on his own success. The more he succeeded the less of him he’d be. 

Now he was just a strange device designed to win. He knew everything he needed and more. He no longer needed to scratch off another layer of himself to be acceptable. He was screaming on the inside just to hold on to a little bit of his former self, but everything needed to be perfect for him to even stay in the game. 

He’ll pretend winning was just a game, he’d pretend it still feels good. That he still feels good. All he knew anymore is what his father wants and how to achieve it. Some might think he has already gone too far, but he wasn’t anywhere near where he needed to be. He only needed to pretend his mother looked proud of him while in her grave while he was making the way to the top. 

It became a circle of pretending that everything was fine, even though he was a crying mess inside. He perfected the art too well, his outside façade took over his life, he made sure it never cracked around others. Everything needs to be neat, clean and organized. Never to reflect the mess in his head. 

He knew it by then, the thing he feared was true, he was truly gone. He had lost his mind and himself. He was a perfect shell of a raging storm. Another fake smile, another perfect result and another day his father looked at him for at least a second.


End file.
